


Ignorantia Sit Beatitudo

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: Early morning, sleepy sex with Vulpes.





	Ignorantia Sit Beatitudo

**Author's Note:**

> My 50th work on the Archive!
> 
> As always, finding hot pictures of characters gives me inspiration for fics and this one is no different. Hope you enjoy!

He is meticulous in his affections, waking her with a touch of his lips to her ear. She sighs contentedly and twists her head to expose more of her smooth skin to him. Tenderness is a learned trait; Vulpes never felt the need to gently lick the necks of the slaves he had fucked, as he does the Courier's. She mewls sleepily with her back pressed to his chest, his tongue, like fire on her chilly flesh, trailing a path to her earlobe as he idly thumbs her nipple. He can taste the soap from the old world she'd showered with the night before; an unfamiliar, flowery scent, a little like a Horsenettle, but sharper and deeper somehow.

This is her favourite way to wake up, his attentions raising goosebumps along her arms. He feels the raised pinpricks against his own skin, her hair like silk pressed to his jaw as he bites her neck gently, relishing in the reactions he causes in her.

Fuelled partly by jealously, Vulpes plants kisses along the slope of her shoulder and gives her nipple a firm tweak. It pebbles and he is almost driven to madness thinking about how Benny could have done this to his Courier. Not while she'd known him, of course. The young woman isn't the type to crawl into multiple beds, not for money, favours or simply for the pleasure, but sleeping with Benny had been necessary to obtain the chip, she'd said. Better than attempting to take on the Chairmen.

The Courier arches her back, grinding against Vulpes' growing erection. He gives a throaty moan into her hair and his calloused fingers pluck at her other nipple. He teases her, circling around the aching tip with blunt nails, drawing a pleading gasp from her pink lips before pinching hard. Her clit throbs, a sensation that's twitch-inducing in her early morning lethargy. Each twinge of pleasure is elongated, her body still stiff and heavy from sleep. She can feel his length against her backside, swelling as she moans quietly and his hand traces a long line down her sternum, over the lightly-muscled plain of her abdomen and stopping just above her mound.

His Courier wriggles lazily, attempting to receive friction where she craves it most. With another soft bite to her neck, Vulpes dips his fingers lower and strokes her clit. She lifts her leg, hooking it behind both of his, opening herself up to him a little more. Her hips roll against his hand and she groans, eyes still closed, thoroughly enjoying this attention.

Sometimes, Vulpes thinks she isn't much different from a dog. As long as the Courier is fed, watered and cuddled, she's happy. Her face lights up whenever he calls her name, she lays across his lap when she's bored and she'll kiss him on command. Yes, he thinks as he rubs her bud in slow, firm circles. He's got a pet, not a lover.

Not that it bothers him, of course.

She shudders and moans his name in broken syllables, his lips caressing her ear again. Pressed together, their bodies are heating up, flames licking up the Courier's spine as Vulpes eases a finger past her folds. He meets almost no resistance, with his bed partner already relaxed after a wonderfully peaceful sleep. She all but melts in his arms, panting, arching her back when he adds another finger.

"Vulpes..." she moans needilly, his cock aching upon hearing her voice so pleading, so desperate for him. He curls his dextrous digits in search of that secret pleasure spot and, thanks to his practiced precision, he finds it swiftly. The Courier's outstretched hand fists in the sheets, the other bending back to tangle in his short, dark hair. Her mouth drops open as her brows lift and soft, sleepy sounds of bliss rise from her throat. He's driving her towards a climax she knows will feel good (they always do), but Vulpes' own arousal is becoming almost impossible to ignore.

He uses the moisture collected on his fingers to rub her clit in hard, tight circles as he lifts his hips, sinking his throbbing length into her hot core. Admittedly, his lethargy meant it wasn't as smooth as he wanted, but she doesn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, judging by the claw marks she's leaving in the mattress.

She likes it rough, sometimes. They've done it all ways; fast, slow, gentle, hard and just downright kinky (she still has red welts across her backside that bring to mind the delicious sting of his belt), but both enjoy these softer sessions of love-making. It's a different kind of pleasure, deep and extraordinarily satisfying, more passion than lust. Both are sensations only the Courier has managed to awaken in Vulpes.

His movements are a little uncoordinated, hips rolling up to meet hers and she feels every inch of him, his breath ragged and hot against her ear. She grinds back against him and the pleasure builds, like a tightly coiling spring as Vulpes continues to press hard circles on her swollen bud. Even in this half-dozing state, she's gasping his name, feeling a deepening sort of bliss that only comes from fucking like this. His cock fills her, brushing against that good spot with every thrust and soon, she's trembling in anticipation. He can feel her shaking, knows her climax is approaching and his own isn't far off. Vulpes takes to biting and sucking her shoulder again, a low growl rising from his chest that makes heat spread through the Courier's core.

"Vulpes, please..." she moans, eyes screwed shut as his movements become more erratic. He pants dirty suggestions in her ear and, were she not overwhelmed with sensation, she might've told him to wash his mouth out. Still, he has enough of a way with words to fuel the desire within her and, with a firm pinch to her clit, he tips the Courier over the edge.

Her back arches and a long, airy sigh flows from her lips. She forgets everything but Vulpes and the way he's making her feel, throbbing cock still thrusting through her orgasm. He rocks her through it before she relaxes in his arms and, with a few more snaps of his hips, he tenses and buries his length deep within her still fluttering walls. The moan he gives against her neck is almost animalistic.

In the afterglow of yet another bout of mind-blowing sex (their third this week, the Courier thinks), the pair gasp for air and feel themselves sinking back into the warmth of the bedclothes. Her suite in the Lucky 38 is complete with climate control, so it's perfect temperature for a morning snooze after they've worn themselves out. Vulpes pulls out and the Courier turns to face him, tucking her head into his neck. She notes the sweat on his skin as his arms envelop her, one hand stroking her hair, the other tracing soothing patterns on her back. She begins to doze off, caught in a gentle embrace that betrays the true loyalty of the desert fox. He plants soft kisses at her hairline, the Courier's fingers lightly roaming the scars littered across his chest and taut waist.

Vulpes can't recall how this thing that's sort of like a real, healthy relationship began. He remembers their first intimate encounter; trapped in an old shack until the cover of night allowed them safe passage through Deathclaw territory, he'd found that tight spaces and hot heads can lead to compromising situations. He supposes they were lucky the Deathclaws didn't hear them. They'd certainly made the Earth move...

Soft touches flow instead of conversation. Not for the first time, he wonders what this is, what he's doing, but as always, the words don't form. Instead, they lie resting in the warmth of one another. Vulpes isn't one for questions. He likes having answers, is used to possessing knowledge that is unknown to most others, but he doesn't ask about love, feelings or any other trivial things associated with relationships. Partly because he suspects the Courier doesn't know either, but also because he doesn't want it to end.

Probing has a habit of breaking apart delicate machinery, no matter how strong the exterior plating is. A hotplate will break if it's jabbed hard enough with a screwdriver. He'd found that out as a child. Best not tamper with things one doesn't understand, his mother had always said. So he leaves it be. He leaves talk about 'us' indefinitely.

He just doesn't want it to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Ignorantia sit beatitudo - ignorance is bliss.


End file.
